


kiss me like it's a lie

by orphan_account



Category: BTOB
Genre: Asexuality, Kissing, M/M, Mild Angst, Non AU, mild swearing, sorta sad open ended ending?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 08:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13314237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: it's easier this way.(it hurts and in that way it's not easier but he tells himself it is because he shouldn't, he shouldn't allowed to do this—)





	kiss me like it's a lie

**Author's Note:**

> for anon on tumblr!  
> thank you for the request!
> 
> auuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhghgh as i am asexual myself i tried to portray it like how i felt it to be, perhaps asexuality is different to you and well,, everyone is different i guess? also this is my first time writing changjae so eek i hope i got their personalities ok :,) 
> 
> title from as if it's your last by blackpink !

The first time it happens— Changsub’s not even really sure when, to be honest. Not that— it was a long time ago, or anything. He’s just too busy with— everything to bother remembering dates like when he’d first taken the maknae’s plump face in his hands and kissed his plump lips with his own… not so plump ones. He just knows that Sungjae was legal, and willing, and  _ beautiful _ . Pliant beneath his hands. Everything soft and bendy and just— nice, it was nice to be able to kiss someone without the voice in his head screeching about  _ his idol image _ or  _how_ _the fans are going to kill her_ , because, well, Sungjae’s an idol too and not a girl as far as he knows. 

It started because— well. 

He knows why but he doesn’t want to admit it but clear as day, at least to the rest of the members— he’s always been soft for Sungjae. He’s always been willing and endlessly patient and, well— when Sungjae had cuddled up closer, closer into the curve of his side, he hadn’t protested or anything because cuddles were cuddles. Everyone loved cuddles, even the most cold of people. He hoped. 

He’d always been willing to let things slip, always been willing to bend bend bend  _ bend  **all** _ _the fucking rules_ when it came to Yook Sungjae, hell, if it was Sungjae telling him to  _ diet fucking please, so I can fit you into these pants _ he’d diet, if it was Sungjae telling him to  _ literally sleep or else I will make you because I don’t have enough makeup to cover these bags _ he’d sleep, if it was Sungjae telling him to do anything he’d fucking do it because he adores Yook Sungjae like plants adore the sun. 

So when Sungjae was so close he was practically sitting in Changsub’s lap, Changsub ignored the voices screeching in his head. And when Sungjae turned to him, batted those pretty eyelashes of his and asked in that soft voice of his “ is this okay, hyung? ” Changsub only nodded mutely, linked his fingers with Sungjae’s, and wound his hands around to rest on Sungjae’s tum. 

And when the drama that they weren’t really watching ended, screen flicking to black, Sungjae had shifted around in Changsub’s lap and kissed him, soft and nice and startlingly intimate with the lights off and only the moon shining through the dorm window to see each other. Sungjae had taken Changsub’s hands in his own soft ones and guided them to his pretty hips, slender and curving and shifting as he moved, peppering kisses down Changsub’s jaw. 

They’d been at it for twenty minutes before Sungjae pulled away and Changsub had to remind himself not to chase, and he’d allowed his lips to quirk up a little at the way the moonlight shimmered on Sungjae’s swollen lips and he’d allowed himself that brief moment to just— appreciate, appreciate the little things about Yook Sungjae that he never would allow himself to in daylight, or— or, ever. Ever. He let himself sink into a little bubble where only, kissing, he and Sungjae, and the moon existed and it was so very nice in that little place. 

He never wanted to leave that little place. 

 

It’s been a while since— the first time, or  _ The First Time _ as Sungjae calls it, capitals and italics and all. He’s always been a sucker for the dramatic, not like— not like Changsub-hyung. Changsub-hyung, who is nice and deep and mellow and—  _ nice _ . Did he say that already? He’s never been good with words, not really. That’s one thing he had in common with Changsub-hyung. They think simply, bluntly. Not big flowery words that you have to have context to really understand. 

When something is nice, it’s nice. You use the word nice to describe it. 

Anyways. They’ve been at— this, whatever you call  _ this _ for a while now. Eight months. (Sungjae hasn’t been counting.) But it’s been eight months of holding hands and sneaking kisses and sometimes, sharing beds and Sungjae still isn’t sure about everything. He would’ve thought that the willingness to kiss someone meant attraction… right? 

But it’s always Sungjae initiating. Never does Changsub begin the kiss, but he doesn’t kiss submissively either. Changsub doesn’t ever, ever turn him down yet it’s never— yet Sungjae has never had to  _ be  _ there for Changsub. He’s never had to hold Changsub in his arms, murmur sweet nothings into Changsub’s head, like how Changsub does for him. Changsub never seeks him out, and that— he’d like to say it doesn’t hurt but it  _does_.

 

“Why aren’t you pushing forward?” Sungjae is asking. Changsub lets his hands slide down Sungjae’s thighs to rest on the couch. “Why aren’t you—”  _ Aroused? Is that what you’re asking?  _ It’s nighttime and that’s really the only reason Changsub let his face fall, because in the darkness people can’t see it. But he can see in just that moment Sungjae’s face falls, to mirror his and Sungjae traces his finger over the downward curve of his lip. 

_ I don’t know _ . His fingers scrabble uselessly in Sungjae’s sweater and he suddenly feels like he needs the warmth of Sungjae’s lips on his, and he’d like to pretend that he  _ needs _ it, that he  _ craves _ Sungjae’s touch like he  _ should _ , that he isn’t still soft in his pants even when his lips are bitten-rose. To pretend that he’s ever gotten  _ really _ interested with that high-school hookup, the one that kissed him soggy and borrowed his fingers to get off on. “I…”  _ I what? I  **am** interested in you, even if my dick isn’t? I promise I like kissing you, even if my dick doesn't? _  And for once in his life he doesn’t know  how to be honest because he isn’t honest with himself about— about  _ this _ . “I don’t know.” 

Sungjae climbs off his lap and leaves. 

That’s how the first time goes. 

 

He hasn’t asked since  _ The First Time _ . Asked about— he’s not even sure really, but it’s been nudging at him ever since…  _ it _ . It was the first twist in his plan, his perfect plan to show Changsub his attraction for the older and— well, he doesn’t know either. Seduce Changsub into Liking him? Everyone already knew Changsub loved Sungjae, adored him, had a softer spot in the soft spot he had for the rest of BtoB. He’s considering googling ‘does kissing necessarily mean attraction’ but he mentally smacks himself before he can enter ‘does—’ because, of  _ course _ kissing means attraction. 

He’s sitting on the sofa. It’s been eight months. At least one night a week Sungjae lets himself slip into Changsub’s room and lose his mind in Changsub’s lips and at this point he knows Changsub’s lips and hands and face as well as he knows his own. It’s quiet, very quiet, nothing to focus on except for his thoughts. 

He doesn’t  _ want _ to focus on his thoughts. 

 

Changsub— he’s never been interested in someone, going by the meaning of the word interested when they would stare at girls’ perky— tits’n’asses, they would say. When he looked at a girl, he saw just that— a girl, a person, different from another girl or another person. He saw their clothing, their hair colour, the shade of their skin. If they had any characteristics that stood out, he saw that. He just never had the urge to— “bend her over”, as they said. 

And when looking at girls got boring he moved to guys and they turned out to be— well, just as boring, maybe a little less. He didn’t watch porn because the first time it was on a grainy laptop in stifling darkness and it had just made him feel— sick. But not sick in the i’m-going-to-throw-up way, sick in a way that coiled in his stomach like a nesting dragon and didn’t go away. He’d never been interested in anyone in his life. 

He’s got his laptop open on his knees. The word  _ asexual _ stares back at him. 

And—  _ oh _ . 

Things begin to make sense, click together, and now that they do he’s wondering if he wants them to click together so smoothly, so perfectly, so easily. Asexuality. Little to no sexual attraction. Asexual is a big umbrella term for blah blah blah and he licks his lips a little because asexuality— being asexual usually meant being alone, and Changsub doesn’t— Changsub doesn’t like to be alone. Asexual means hating being touched, hating skin contact, hating  _ kissing _ — but he  _ doesn’t _ hate those things, he  _ likes _ them, he likes holding hands brushing shoulders being patted on the back cuddling and kissing too, he likes all of that— but. 

“Hyung…” Sungjae is suddenly— there. Perched on the side of Changsub’s bed. Staring down at the screen where  _ asexual _ is still displayed in big, bold letters. “Oh.” 

Yeah. Oh. 

And Changsub shakes his head quickly, snaps out of it because it’s like 3 in the morning and Sungjae only comes to his room at 3 in the morning when he wants comfort, usually in the form of cuddling or kissing or something. “Did you want to…” He holds his arms out. _D_ _id you want to **what**?_ H e doesn’t even know how to phrase it in his head. 

But instead of sinking into him Sungjae moves away like he’s been shocked or something and in the light of his laptop screen Changsub can see that Sungjae looks— hurt? Betrayed? Disturbed? _I_ _s this really so revolting?_ H e wonders, pressing his lips together. He doesn’t even get it himself— after so many years of just accepting  _ it _ , it’s weird to put a label on. On  _ it _ . 

“Are you just pitying me?” Sungjae’s voice is hollow. “Are you just playing with me, entertaining me because you gotta keep that ‘love the maknae’ image up, that good hyung image up? I don’t need your pity.” It’s tapering into a snarl and Changsub’s mind is too slow to process it like— like this, fast and brutal and at 3 in the morning. _W_ _hat do you **mean**?_ H e’s thinking. “You think it’s cool to— to be like this, huh?” _C_ _ ool to be like  **what** _ _?_ H e reaches his hands out to Sungjae and— ouch, it hurts when Sungjae slaps his hand away— not his hand but the stab in the chest. 

“I guess I know now,  why ,” Sungjae spits. _K_ _ now  **what** ? _ “Why you never got— aroused. When we kissed. It’s because you’re fucking disgusted by it, right? By—” He’s gesturing wildly all about the place and Changsub is panicking inside because  what does he  mean ? “By all this. You’ve been keeping it from us but you really hate when we touch you, right? That’s what all asexuals are like.” A bitter laugh. “I can tell the other hyungs to stop, if you want.” 

Oh. 

Changsub finally gets it. 

And right when he does, right when he opens his mouth with the words bubbling up in his throat and heart recoiling at Sungjae’s words, Sungjae is slinking out the door again, taking Changsub’s— Changsub’s  everything  with him. 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @dumplingyin  
> twitter @yinsums


End file.
